


Bugbear

by datsuzoku (koshitsu_kamira)



Series: Sketchbook [1]
Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 13:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12582612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshitsu_kamira/pseuds/datsuzoku
Summary: They are both young still, Daehwi thinks, shooting Dongho a coy wink, who blushes behind his tea cup and smiles bashfully over the brim, joy radiant.





	Bugbear

**Author's Note:**

> bugbear (n) _any source, real or imaginary, of needless fright or fear_  
>  Thank you for reading.

Daehwi doesn't really think about the underlying reasons behind Minhyun's unexpected text message before he's already walking out the door, sneaker clad feet pattering down the stairs, baseball cap pushed low over his face, a fine wool scarf obscuring his other distinctive features - somewhere along the line of living together in a highly stressful environment where everyone constantly hovered on the edge, he has just learnt to blindly accept the elder's gentle authority. After the official disbandment though, he assumed the influence would fade with the start of a different team, newly forged connections, then realized that even time can't erode bonds built upon tearful laughter, stubborn determination; family, as Daehwi has come to understand, can arise in many unforeseeable ways and patterns, tenacious attachment the common denominator.

While the group chat gradually quietened, the messages far and few between, Minhyun has never stopped reaching out to Daehwi, despite their increasingly hectic schedules, odd waking hours, the occasional radio silence whereas the younger boy went through whatever rough patch life had thrown his way - the voice memos always show up midweek, eight o'clock sharp. Seldom, Daehwi ponders cornering the other man about the near frantic intent he could interpret from the innocuous questions, weather talk, ask if Minhyun believed he would quietly go off the grid without adult supervision, and find out why his disappearance matters so much; curiously, he doesn't ever consider the who, choosing to tiptoe around the elephant in the room that is the focal point of their unlikely friendship.

Two years ago, his phone screen lit up with a strange address and concise instructions to send letters each month: "remember, the envelope will be opened by the officers," warned the text blurb, back when Minhyun possessed enough motivation to use proper punctuation, actual vocabulary words instead of vague abbreviations, outdated Internet slang Daehwi struggled interpreting. The natural reaction to such vague request would have been direct refusal or some form of objection at least, yet all Daehwi did was turn his room upside down as he looked for the floral stationery set which was eventually discovered beneath old high school textbooks, battered notepads, overflowing binders, still in mint condition regardless the yellowing corners.

Spring turned into summer, then autumn before he ran out of clean sheets to retell the mundane stories that represented the very fabric of his days: midnight convenience store runs, the last minute cramming sessions during the exam period, the rare moments where he could just breathe - Daehwi was certain the letters were fairly boring, even if he personally enjoyed reliving the sense of normalcy his sentences echoed. Penning the messages allowed him to muse over the past episodes he would have otherwise forgotten, appreciate the twinkling seconds worthy of recollection, like Woojin's vivacious laughter right after Youngmin pushed the birthday cake in his face, the cool breeze ruffling Daehwi's sweat-drenched tresses post-workout, or his mother's proud gaze on graduation day.

Admittedly, Daehwi isn't the best literary writer, nonetheless, he hopes the awkward, choppy paragraphs, including the weirdly placed adjectives and barely strung-together phrases managed to convey the heartfelt contentment he had attempted distilling, especially when the recipient deserved nothing but happiness, a sentiment he would entertain first in the morning, mind too hazy to register embarrassment. Cheeks aflame at the corny thought, Daehwi stumbles along the last steps, finally bursts into the garage and subsequently hops on the nondescript scooter the staff normally uses for quick trips to a nearby coffee shop, often the local pharmacy following the long nights spent drinking; helmet buckled under his chin, he leads the vehicle outside, hitting the road once the route has been confirmed by the navigation app.

Focus kept resolutely on the road, Daehwi tries ignoring his clammy palms inside the protective gloves, the quickening rhythm of his heartbeat as he dodges wing mirrors, wobbly trailers, the manic drivers who disregard speed limits and switch lanes without signaling beforehand; suppressing the urge to flip off a particular commuter, teeth gritted, he takes the next corner where the tea house is located. Thankfully, the streets are relatively deserted for a Friday afternoon, so Daehwi claims a parking spot within minutes in lieu of making a dozen aimless round, then slowly ambles towards the shop in a last-ditch effort to gain more time, wade through the anxiety that has caught him unaware - it _is_ rather stupid, he reckons upon entering the building, smiling weakly at the waiter near the cash register, the fear he now experiences.

"Hello Daehwi," greets the man from the table situated against the far wall when he turns around to carefully scan the patrons of the establishment, the stranger's voice causing his knees buckle, the air within his lungs tremble, joy an irresistible force which propels him to meander over the ill-lit area in a daze, "don't you have two months left?" he asks haltingly, unblinking lest his companion vanishes into thin air. The man grins, cheekbones protruding with unhidden mirth that Daehwi aches to touch, confirm he's really here - instead he plops down on the opposite chair, completely overwhelmed - "I was in the marine corps, boy," the other points out, exuding fake disappointment, "hasn't Minhyun mentioned that detail? The idiot swore you two were talking on a regular basis."

"We did," Daehwi blurts, cracking a smile at the satisfied hum which leaves his companion, "albeit he just told me about the weather in Hwaseong-si," he chuckles, hands tapping a restless beat on the tabletop before warm, calloused fingers intertwine with his, "I missed you a lot," he whispers shyly, glancing up as the grip tightens around his gloved knuckles, "Dongho." They both flush pink and Daehwi starts giggling, endeared; sometimes he recalls the irrational trepidation that struck him the first time they crossed path, only to wonder how he confused attraction, teenage infatuation with fear, why couldn't he have seen the erratic spike of his pulse, the nervous stuttering for anything except alarm - in his defense, Dongho wasn't exactly acting helpful, half-terrified himself.

 _"You are so young still,"_ the elder murmured distractedly after a private vocal practice session, stare faraway, tone wistful, _"who am I to hold you back, seriously,"_ leaving Daehwi disoriented, whose innocent words of 'What do you mean?' and perhaps even 'I like you' remained frozen in the resulting hush whereas Dongho stormed outside the room, the door clicking shut in his wake with a definitive thud, a full stop at the end of a chapter. Afterwards they simply lost contact amid the turbulence of everyday trials, missed chances, and a few minor heartbreaks while Daehwi gradually began to comprehend the intricacy of their circumstances which hadn't prevented him from sending a cheeky text on the day he became an adult, halfway through a soju bottle - _"maybe I'll never be old enough, stupid."_

Daehwi had expected stony silence, however he received a barrage of tentative messages instead, entirely off-topic, inquiring about university lectures, assignments he was tempted to ignore; _"have you considered that he isn't ready?"_ Minhyun supplemented during his weekly check-in, interrupting the frustrated tirade the younger man had launched the moment they went online. _"Please,"_ Daehwi typed, deliberately omitting Dongho's name although he suspected Minhyun was very much aware, _"don't try to convince me he hasn't already dated within the industry,"_ kicking at the floor, annoyed, he winced when the rubber soles made a squeaking sound, _"that's a flat-out lie you shouldn't feed me,"_ mood black, he added a fuming lion sticker for emphasis.

 _"What if he hadn't been earnest before,"_ Minhyun divulged, skirting dangerous boundaries, _"anyway, despite all appearances, he's the least reckless person I've met,"_ the elder added, almost pleading, _"go easy on him, soon he'll pull himself together;"_ reading the last sentence, Daehwi scoffed, shooting back a spiteful _"hopefully, within this decade,"_ notwithstanding the guilt which was permeating his thoughts. Admittedly, patience wasn't Daehwi's strong suit: he preferred action over inertia, consequently, he would often rush head first into situations without a proper game plan, a strategy that had obviously backfired with Dongho's cautious nature in play; pacing the floor, he paused now and again, ultimately opening the messages left unread, then set out to write a coherent reply.

Dongho taught him persistence, that some people are worth the wait and certain things require time to build, Daehwi surmises fondly, chuckle affectionate as the older man accidentally drops an entire scone in his drink, gaze dancing around the café to check whether people have noticed the mishap while he attempts saving the cookie, eyes finally settling on his companion's mischievous grin. "You're so cute," Daehwi huffs under his breath, hastily swallowing the other words which have been sitting on the tip of his tongue ever since he spotted Dongho in his buzz cut, stubbled glory, and felt a thousand butterflies take flight deep within his stomach, "only you would find a freshly discharged, thirty-year-old man adorable," he laments, a bit flustered from the frank compliment.

They are both young still, Daehwi thinks, shooting Dongho a coy wink, who blushes behind his tea cup and smiles bashfully over the brim, joy radiant, the sight coaxing an indulgent beam out of his companion, akin to the gentle sunshine teasing flower buds awake early spring - but with the tendrils of hope sprouting toward the surface, the younger man believes that someday their hearts will surely withstand the love which binds their fates together.


End file.
